


Midnight Sonata

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Based on Yuri on Concert, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, M/M, Musician Katsuki Yuuri, Pianist Katsuki Yuuri, Skater Victor Nikiforov, Smut, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 07:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Yuuri is a world-renowned concert pianist and one of his concerts is approaching. He’s under a lot of stress and practicing at all hours of the night; Viktor does his best to soothe his anxiety.





	Midnight Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMDPEX1g1Df3R9LORjV7uMjdRQiw63F1S) for a playlist of the songs mentioned in the fic! ❤️

Viktor woke in the middle of the night, for the thousandth time that week, to the gentle sound of Yuuri’s piece floating through the night air from the living room. He groaned softly when he reached out to Yuuri’s side of the bed and found nothing but empty space, he knew he wasn’t hearing things; he had been listening to the same movement of Mozart’s Moonlight Sonata for days. Yuuri explained to him he hadn’t perfected the third movement yet, though Viktor had spent enough afternoons reclined on the leather couch beside the piano to know that that was 1, far from the truth, and that 2, Yuuri’s anxiety had been settling into his core for a few days now. Viktor could tell.

He always could, in the hectic days leading up to his concerts. It was difficult to work through at times, but it would never bother Viktor, having a concert musician as a fiancé. How the stars had aligned to ensure he was attending a stuffy ISU event on the same night, in the same hotel as one of Yuuri’s first concerts, Viktor would never know. Though, how he ended up slipping out of ballroom A and into ballroom B, transfixed by the haunting melody of Bach, Viktor certainly knew. How he had leaned against the back wall, watching as the most handsome man he had ever seen in his life, dressed in a plaid checkered suit, played the only piece of music that had moved him to tears up to that point, Viktor certainly knew. And how he ended up ‘tripping’ and ‘falling’ into the lap of world-class pianist Katsuki Yuuri, Japanese virtuoso, however, Viktor certainly knew. And there was a lot of champagne involved.

Viktor stretched his spine gently and swung his legs out of bed, throwing on one of Yuuri’s t-shirts as he walked out into the living room. Sure enough, Yuuri was sitting at the piano, his hands poised above the keys as he ran through the fingering of the third movement silently. Viktor had assured him of just how heavy a sleeper he was, but the music almost always woke him. And he would never complain, Yuuri’s music was the softest, gentlest lullaby he could imagine; it almost always lulled him back to sleep, especially when he wandered out of the bedroom and kissed the top of Yuuri’s head, murmuring something about playing _River Flows in You_ or _Clair de Lune_ instead, before plopping himself down on the couch to fall asleep again, if a bit closer to his fiancé’s side. 

But there was nothing soft, nothing tender about Yuuri’s playing tonight. It wasn’t being played in the tentative way Yuuri usually played when he knew Viktor was asleep. He wasn’t playing with the silent pedal on, he hadn’t closed the cover of the polished black baby grand. This wasn’t careful. This was… _manic_. This was the exhaustion, this was the oversaturation. Yuuri had played the same four measures three times now, and each time with an increasing number of errors and slipped fingers. 

Just a single lamp set on the piano illuminated the glossy black and white of the keys, a shine that Viktor always insisted was mirrored in the color of Yuuri’s hair. He didn’t have the sheet music in front of him, his tablet screen was dark, simply reflecting his strained, frustrated features in the black mirror of the darkened screen. He hadn’t even brought his glasses with him, Viktor noticed, but Yuuri didn’t really need his glasses when he usually played with his eyes closed. He was shirtless, the soft pudge that clung to his belly and hips out for full appreciation, like it always was when he slept. Just a pair of cotton sweatpants slung on his hips had dipped almost low enough to divulge the crease of his asscheeks, and it would have been an adorable candid moment, had Yuuri not just uttered a frustrated string of Japanese. He swore under his breath just as Viktor stepped into the living room, the thick carpeting dulled Viktor’s steps as it always did, and Yuuri jumped when he draped his arms around his shoulders. 

“God, Vitya, you scared me.” he mumbled, “Sorry if I woke you.” Yuuri apologized sheepishly, his shoulders slumping like he knew he had been caught. The gesture almost looked like he was physically repenting for disturbing Viktor’s sleep. Again. Making himself smaller.

“It’s alright, Yuuri. You know I don’t mind waking up to your music. But I think you need to come back to bed.” Viktor said, and he could feel the tension in Yuuri’s hands when he pried them away from the keys. “You’ve been _‘ironing out the third movement’_ since last week and playing while brain-dead is only going to make you more frustrated.” Viktor repeated Yuuri’s own words back at him.

Yuuri whined and held his ground, not budging from his position on the edge of the bench. “I can’t, Vitya, I need to keep working on it. I’ll never get it right if I don’t practice. I’ll move to the keyboard and plug in my headphones--”

“Yuuuuuuuuuuuuu-riiii~” Viktor interrupted, closing the fallboard, hiding the keys from Yuuri’s reach. “Keeping me awake isn’t the problem right now.” he said, crossing his arms. _God_ , he was incredible on the bench, and not to mention how unfairly attractive he was in his performance tuxedos. But the days, the hours before performances, that was the moment Viktor’s Yuuri melted away and curled into a panicked, tight-jawed, lips-pressed-into-a-line, ‘I need to keep practicing’ Yuuri, who would rather break his fingers than be pulled away from his practice.

“Vitya, please, I can’t stop right now. I’m so close to getting it right, I need to keep going.” Yuuri moved to lift the cover again, but Viktor held it fast. 

“No.” Viktor said firmly, and though he wasn’t above bossing Yuuri around, especially in bed, something uncomfortable settled in the back of his mind at the way Yuuri still hesitated. Viktor hated to see Yuuri so tense, his anxiety wrapped tightly around his chest like a constrictor, pressing the breath and life out of him. He released his grip on the fallboard and instead slid onto the bench beside him. “Play it one more time, for me. And then we’ll go to bed, and you’re going to _sleep_. Okay?” he asked, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. 

Yuuri pressed out a long breath and flipped the fallboard up, and Viktor watched as that shadow fell over him, that cloak of the performer that Viktor has seen so many times. He straightened his back, took a few deep breaths and set his foot over the damper pedal. Viktor picked his head up off his shoulder and set his hand on Yuuri’s thigh instead. He didn’t dare disturb his posture. 

The first notes start low and dark with his left hand, a slow, gentle melody in a gentle sequence on his right hand, the gold of his ring gently sparkling as he moved across the keys. Yuuri’s fingers danced their simple, rolling routine as the haunting first movement filled the living room and parlor; Viktor watched as Yuuri’s features softened, the tiny creases around his eyes smoothing out, the tension in his wrists and hands releasing. 

Yuuri played effortlessly through each arpeggio at the end of the first movement, his posture shifting entirely as he began the second, which couldn’t be more different. A bouncing, light-hearted staccato made Viktor giggle softly, especially when he saw the way Yuuri’s lips turned up as he played it. 

Yuuri didn’t seem to notice when he struck the wrong key, and Viktor was glad for that, knowing how a mistake may have ruined this tiny step in the right direction. Viktor smiled and kissed Yuuri’s hand when he lifted it playfully in the rest between movements, batting his silver eyelashes. 

“You’re incredibly talented, sir, would you do me the honor of sharing a glass?” Viktor teased, repeating the words he had uttered the night they met, offering him a flute of champagne. Viktor had been unable to tear his eyes away from the suit he was wearing, but most importantly, how perfect he had looked in the ambient golden light of a hotel ballroom barely suited to hold a low-budget wedding reception. 

Yuuri giggled and lifted an imaginary glass, and played a high C in place of a clinking sound as he mimed the action of toasting with Viktor’s invisible glass. “I can’t quite refuse an offer like this, can I?” Yuuri repeated his own answer, leaving out the half minute of stuttering and nervous laughing.

Viktor smiled and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s neck, pulling him close and kissing his cheek gently. “Can we go to bed now? I have a long conditioning practice tomorrow and I don’t sleep well when you’re not in bed with me…” Viktor played his ace in the hole, he tugged that heart string he knew he always had handy. Yuuri couldn’t refuse him the thought of a rough night of sleep without the warmth of his body by his side. 

Yuuri nodded sheepishly and closed the fallboard, flicked the lamp on the piano off. “Sorry I kept you up, Viten’ka.” 

Viktor laughed softly and shook his head, taking Yuuri’s hand as they walked back to their bedroom together. Makkachin lifted her head from her plush doggy bed in the corner of the living room but dropped back down, disinterested in her half-clothed dads. “It’s fine, Yuuri, really. I always love listening to you play, you know that.”

Yuuri laughed and shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m still sorry. I should have been playing on the keyboard, not the baby grand… I should have remembered that you have practice tomorrow.” 

Viktor scoffed and pulled the borrowed shirt off over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the hamper, but in his defense, it was dark. Yuuri sighed softly as he slid into bed beside Viktor, curling around him the way their nights usually began, the short hair at the back of Viktor’s head so close to his lips it tickled him. Viktor settled into the sensation, the warmth of his fiancé’s body behind him and breathed deeply.

It didn’t take long before Yuuri was half asleep and skimming his fingers over Viktor’s ribs like keys, and though there was no music, Viktor knew the melody Yuuri’s fingers were playing. _Clair de Lune_. Gentle, glancing notes descended softly along his side. Yuuri always did this before falling asleep; it was a tic, something he did without thinking while drifting in that shallow, gauzy space between sleep and wake.

Viktor smiled at the touch and curled in closer to Yuuri’s body, humming the melody along with Yuuri’s fingers. Granted, Viktor wasn’t the best singer, he was just this side of tone-deaf, but Yuuri would never complain, especially when the rumbly vibration of his hum rolled through the bare skin of his chest and stomach. 

“Thank you, Vitya.” Yuuri mumbled, pressing a soft, warm kiss to his cheek. Viktor smiled and craned his neck with the silent request for more, earning him a gentle chuckle in reply. “Viten’ka… it’s so late, and you said it yourself, you have practice in the morning…” Yuuri teased, ghosting his lips over the tender juncture of jaw and throat. 

“Mmmm, I know. But your mouth feels so nice, Yuuuu-ri.” Viktor whispered, smiling as Yuuri’s fingers resumed their teasing dance. 

“Ah, just my lips, sweetheart?” Yuuri asked quietly, his voice soft and velvety in the dark of their bedroom. “Is that all that feels nice?”

Viktor squirmed and laughed as Yuuri nipped at his earlobe. “No, not just your lips…” he said, feeling himself get more and more worked up by his fiancé’s teasing. “I like your hand there, on me, I love when you play me like your piano.” 

Yuuri’s laugh was soft as Viktor tumbled even deeper into his arousal. Yuuri had that power over him, that just the lightest brush, the softest smile, the tenderest touch had his stomach twisting, heat pooling in his core. He always had, ever since that first performance. And the second one, and the third one. He always would. 

“You’d like me to play you like my piano, hm?” Yuuri asked, kissing a slow, heated trail from beneath his ear to the juncture of his jaw and his throat, where he knew Viktor was most sensitive. His breath hitched and he nodded, nearly unable to summon the words to confirm it. “Viten’ka, I need to hear your pretty voice…” Yuuri rumbled in a voice like far-off thunder. 

God, Yuuri would be the end of him yet. 

“P-please, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, his voice coming out squeaky and rough. Yuuri tore down his defenses with precision, even without trying. “Play me a song?” he requested, and the double meaning wasn’t lost on Yuuri. 

“Lay on your back for me, love.” Yuuri whispered, pressing one last wet kiss to Viktor’s throat before pulling away, making Viktor whine softly. He didn’t want that touch to end, but God, did he want things to continue. 

He moved quickly, flopping onto his back in their large bed, taking up the large pool of warmth their two bodies had left behind. Yuuri smiled proudly in the low light, and Viktor couldn’t help but admire the way his lover looked in the inky dark of midnight, his hair almost completely disappearing into the void of the room around them. 

“Any requests, Viten’ka? What would you like to hear?” Yuuri asked, kneeling at his side the way he had taught Viktor, in the Japanese tradition. (Viktor had insisted that they didn’t need to replace Yuuri’s low table in favor of a western style one, though he had spent an obscene amount of time desensitizing his nerves to the sensation of sitting on his legs for extended periods of time.) 

“Mmm…” Viktor hummed, letting his hands fall to his sides as Yuuri traced the center line of his stomach, the faint outlines of his abs, the curves of his pectoral muscles. His wandering hands made it excessively difficult to focus. “Mozart. Play your piece for me.” Viktor said, reaching up and cupping Yuuri’s round, warm cheek. In the low light, Viktor couldn’t see the flush on his cheeks, but he could tell it was there. His skin was even warmer than normal. 

_“Hai.”_ Yuuri said, kissing the palm of Viktor’s hand and setting it back down at his side. “This piece has three movements, Viten’ka, and is nearly seventeen minutes long… I’d love to see you last the entire piece.” he hadn’t phrased it like a question. It was an expectation. He wasn’t requesting Viktor last under his ministrations, under his perfect, teasing touch for seventeen minutes. 

He expected Viktor would do it. 

His breath caught in his throat and he nodded slowly. “I’ll do my best, Katsuki-sensei.” Viktor uttered, using the Japanese honorific that his fans so often used. Yuuri chuckled and took a long, slow breath, once again adjusting his posture, sitting up straight and resting his hands gently on Viktor’s stomach, his hands bracketing his belly button like middle C. 

Again, Yuuri’s fingers trilled the soft beginning of the piece, his right hand repeating the same three-key movement, his left hand pressing down on the lower notes of the chord. Viktor’s back arched as Yuuri’s hands slowly moved to his right, crawling higher and higher on his chest, whining softly when Yuuri’s pinky pressed into the dip of his sternum before descending again, repeating for a maddening few minutes that honestly felt like a hundred years. Every now and then, Yuuri’s left hand moved to the right as well, dipping just the whorl of his fingerprint into the divot of his belly button, making Viktor shiver. 

Neither of them spoke, save for Viktor’s soft, pleasured sighs and Yuuri’s gentle breaths in and out, intently focused on the taut, shifting flesh under his hands, beneath his fingertips. Yuuri pressed the final chords of the first movement into Viktor’s skin and he felt the tension ease, just for a moment, before the bouncing, glancing touch of the second movement began. 

Viktor, Yuuri had discovered not soon after their relationship bloomed, was incredibly ticklish. Odd, for a man so touchy and affectionate. It only really took the perfectly placed touch to make Viktor melt to the floor in a giggling mess, and he used this to his advantage, and to Viktor’s dismay.

His fingers strayed from the pattern of the movement up and down, imagining the keys of the piano as deep as Viktor’s torso; he dragged his fingernails gently along his ribcage and worked out those soft giggles, and as the teasing persisted, both of them noticed something interesting. 

The giggles had begun shifting into something else. Something not unlike a moan. 

Everything stilled for a moment and Viktor caught his breath, but the shit-eating smirk on Yuuri’s face didn’t relent. “Oh, Viten’ka…” Yuuri breathed, “You _like_ being tickled?” he chuckled, a dark emphasis on the word. Viktor swallowed thickly and nodded, all rational thought having fled in favor of the arousal fogging his mind. Yuuri moaned softly and Viktor knew what that specific sound meant. 

He had flipped Yuuri’s switch again. 

The switch that changed his sweet, shy fiancé to the lust-fueled creature with fire burning in his amber eyes. His Yuuri was a man of many colors, and this… this was his red and black, his all-consuming Eros. The man that had played a sensual tango for him wearing (at Viktor’s own request) one of his old skating costumes. In private, of course, and after a bottle of champagne split between the two of them. It had clung to his curves so scandalously, the spandex fitting over his wide hips and thighs, stretched over his belly so perfectly it took all of Viktor’s willpower to sit through that performance. The memory made Viktor shudder and in the brief moment that his eyes slid shut, Yuuri’s hands resumed their dance, the third movement, the quickest, loudest, most demanding of the three. 

Viktor couldn’t restrain the moan that fell out of his lips as Yuuri’s hands fluttered across his skin, dancing up and down his stomach and chest, with that stormy melody and rapid, breath-taking rhythm. Every time Yuuri’s hands reached their high points, he teased his nipples, and the lowest points, the throbbing length between his legs.

Each touch elicited a different sound from Viktor’s lips, the twist, the flick, the pull of his fingers on his hardening nipples make him gasp and squeal, while the brush of fingers over his cock, his lower stomach, made him moan, deep in his chest. Both he and Yuuri could hear the music playing in their minds and Viktor’s sounds underscored it, a melody that neither of them had thought to accompany the piece so perfectly, but God, now that Yuuri had heard it, he would never have enough. 

“Sing for me, Viten’ka. Your voice is so pretty, singing with my touch…” Yuuri murmured, having to focus on the pattern of his hands instead of the urge to stop and stroke Viktor’s pulsing cock, or to touch his own.

Viktor, far too gone at this point to make a comment about his _actual_ singing voice, could only moan in reply; he canted his hips upward when Yuuri’s hands danced southward again, only to whine and let them drop when his fingers strayed away again. All he needed was the warmth of Yuuri’s palm around him, just for the briefest moment, and he could have his release. But no, Yuuri continued to tease him, to flick at his nipples and barely glance fingers over his dick.

“P-please, Yuuri…” he moaned as the pattern of arpeggios continued, always _just_ too far from his arousal as it twitched against his hip. 

“Shh, no speaking during the performance, Viten’ka. Don’t be rude…” Yuuri chastised him teasingly. He had instructed Viktor to wait, to hold back until the end, but the sounds, _fuck_ , the sounds he was making, the whimpering moans and gasps were nearly too much. “Be a good boy, sweetheart, it’s almost done.” Yuuri cooed, knowing he was coming up on the bombastic finale. Viktor keened and bit down on his lower lip, trying to keep himself grounded by twisting his fingers into the sheets below him.

Yuuri himself was nearing the end of his rope, picking up the tempo as he neared the end of the piece, desperate to reach the end, surely as much as Viktor was. Yuuri’s breaths were coming faster and harder as Viktor’s chest heaved beneath him, his skin growing impossibly warmer. All those hallmark signs that Viktor was barely holding on by a thread. 

It was taking all of Viktor’s willpower to hold himself back as Yuuri teased him, even without being touched the way he wanted, _needed_ , to be, Viktor felt the fraying control he had of his own body was nearing the breaking point. He gasped and moaned, desperately restraining himself; but as Yuuri’s right hand played that tempestuous finale by alternating plucks of his nipples, he lost track of the left. 

Until he found it, and howled at the sensation of it wrapped around his cock. 

“Yuuuri!” he choked out, barely managing two syllables before his legs were trembling and his orgasm hit him like a freight train, rippling through his body like he’d been struck by lightning. He felt his spend splashing onto his stomach as Yuuri abandoned his chest altogether, instead wrapping his right hand around himself and moaning muttered versions of Viktor’s name ad nauseum. 

“F-fuck, Vitya, s-so good for me, hh _hAHH~_ ” Yuuri squeaked as he came too, adding to the mess on Viktor’s stomach. A slurry of Japanese stumbled out of his mouth as he did, and though Viktor had been studying, it all came out in a hurried, scrambled mess, escaping his understanding.

They came down from the high together slowly, Yuuri’s fists still wrapped around both of them, skin singing with oversensitivity, especially Viktor’s, after so much teasing touch. Viktor shuddered with the aftershocks of his orgasm and goosebumps rolled over his body in waves as Yuuri finally released his cock. 

“Wow…” Yuuri whispered in the dark, a sentiment Viktor shared but couldn’t quite express it, not until his ability to control his own mouth returned. Yuuri reached back to the night stand and pulled a few tissues from the box, tenderly cleaning Viktor’s come-soaked skin. “That was… incredible, Viktor. Thank you.” he murmured, leaning down to kiss his fiancé.

“It was.” Viktor said with a smile, finally having found his voice again. “You played it perfectly, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri made a soft, questioning noise, high in his throat. “Played it perfectly?” he asked, repeating Viktor’s words like he had spoken them in Russian and he hadn’t understood. 

“The Moonlight Sonata.” Viktor said, pulling Yuuri down into a kiss. “You played it perfectly.” He laughed tiredly as Yuuri’s sexed-out mind finally put the pieces together.

“Oh… the piece? How-- how do you know?” Yuuri asked, curling up at Viktor’s side, tugging the blankets back up around them. “There wasn’t any music...”

“I don’t,” Viktor replied quietly, his heart rate finally slowing. “But I know that if you made a mistake, you didn’t notice it. And it didn’t throw you off.” he said, beaming at Yuuri in the small space between them. Yuuri blinked slowly at him, wondering if this had been Viktor’s plan all along. 

It was, but they could sort it out in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by conversations I had with my friends and enablers on discord (and some art by our lord and savior quel on twitter. [click me!](https://twitter.com/sidesidething/status/997457820806205440?s=19)) I know I said I was done writing other shit but i have absolutely no self control and I have no excuses. I blame all of you for this. hope you enjoyed viktor being played like a literal piano. 
> 
> ❤️ IA ❤️  
> [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAtheAuthor)


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